Egyptian author Abdo Gobeir, a close friend of celebrated writer Naguib Surur, has written the introduction for the latest edition of the latter’s book,“Protocols of the Elders of Riche,” published by El-Shorouk, Cairo, 2006. The title refers to Café Riche, a well-known café in downtown Cairo traditionally frequented by artists and intellectuals and where Nasser’s Free Officers once held secret meetings.
Gobeir’s introduction brims with memories and warm metaphors in reference to Surur, Egypt’s legendary artist and poet.
"When there were winds, there was no rain; and when there was no rain, there were no winds," the introduction begins, recalling the days that followed Egypt’s 1967 defeat at the hands of Israel, popularly known as “the Naksa,” or “setback.”
"Madness filled the valley," Gobeir writes, in an expression of the collective depression caused by the defeat.
In his introduction, Gobeir remembers Surur as one of the most sensitive – and cynical – people he ever knew.
The book is a criticism of those who passed their time in the eponymous café, Gobeir explains, even though he himself was a frequent visitor to the place. The café was, in fact, where Gobeir first saw Surur.
"I never imagined he was this handsome," Gobeir writes of his first impressions of the literary icon, a dark, oriental man with soft hair and big eyes.
According to Gobeir, Surur was attempting to portray – ironically – the model of the man he saw in the street: schizophrenic, full of contradictions, and, in Surur's opinion, what eventually led to corruption and national defeat.
Gobeir's memories stretch back to his early days, immediately after the publication of his first book, “A Night on a Wooden Horse.” He recalls going to the café, planning to give Surur a copy, only to find that the writer had already obtained a copy and read it.
Surur had even written a brief review of the book in a message to celebrated author Yussuf Idriss. Surur took the risk of championing the young writer’s work while criticising the illustrious Idriss – considered literary blasphemy at the time.
The final memory Gobeir recalls of Surur was the famous incident in which the latter went to Tahrir Square, where he performed the theatre play Sale. Surur's performance could not be contained within the limited boundaries of the theatre hall, so he decided to perform the same act in the central square, using his own young son in the performance.
"Little Farid was put up for sale by his father," was the word on the street that day – in reference to an incident that would be later recalled by a number of Surur's friends and colleagues.
Months later, Gobeir recalled the episode in Surur’s obituary, remembering the tears in the eyes of the Tahrir audience as they realised that his insanity had come as a direct result of the humiliating military defeat.
Since Gobeir doesn’t consider himself a “suitable” critic of Surur’s work, the last section of the introduction – a review of the book – is written by Muffeed Massuh, a young literary critic.
Gobeir ends his introduction with a quotation oft-repeated by Surur: "Zionists will sit in the Café Riche." The prophecy would later be fulfilled after the 1979 Camp David peace agreement with the Zionist state allowed Israelis free access to Egypt.
The provocative introduction begs the question: What would Surur have done had he lived long enough to see his beloved Tahrir Square become the venue for revolution and martyrdom? Most likely, he would have stayed there – day and night – during the 18-day uprising, reciting his poetry and giving succour to Egypt’s next generation of revolutionaries.
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